The second in my republished “Grandmothers” series.
Perhaps you will read this, relate to it in some way, and fondly remember your own Grandparents a bit. What incredible, special people they are.
She was 91 when she passed away, and she made it clear she was ready to go. She was happy, but she missed my Grandfather, Donald Watson Conner, “Daddy Don” very much, as he had gone a few years before and she was ready. She was a kind, gentle, and quiet spirit, and she was also plain-spoken and pragmatic, even tough, perhaps. My paternal Grandparents were married nearly 61 years.
My grandmother, Muriel Joy, or to us, “Mama Joy” loved birds and so, bird-watching. My memory tells me her favorite bird was the Black-capped Chickadee. Because of this, I see this small, fragile, yet super-active, energetic and happy little bird as the most perfect representation of my Grandmother. To me, they are one and the same. Even now, as I approach the age she was when I was born, when I see or think of a Black-capped Chickadee, I see her. Today, I have her field guide to birds – her bird book – on my bookshelf. As material possessions go, it is one of my most treasured.
I also have a set of seven wood clothes pins she sent me, with colorful paper strips glued to the smooth, flat sides, clipped to a note written on cardstock in green ballpoint pen, “Keep it Closed!” “Keep it Fresh!” These are more valuable to me than most things I own.
And hand-made cards – again, colorful abstract designs or photographs of flowers, cut out of an issue of “Outdoor Indiana” – the cutouts carefully glued to the cover and trimmed with care and thoughtfulness. On the cover or inside there are notes written to accompany a newspaper clipping she knew would be of interest to me. She would write simply, “Be Chipper!”, or “Funny Article!”, or “What Was He Thinking?!”, or “Thought You Would Enjoy Reading This! Happy-Happy!”
Keep these things if you have them, whatever they may be. They do something for us – these things from our Grandparents, people we love. Keep them and treasure them. They do something to help us slow down a bit. They help to remind us, they regulate us, and they calm us. They do something to draw us back in and even for a moment, away from the busier, distracted life that we live, perhaps so far from where we started.
If you have a note from a Grandparent – or anyone you love – keep it, read it.
Then use it as a bookmark in a favorite book.
I keep all such “important papers” in my books. As the books we read often hold so much about life, love, relationships, challenges and trials, great mysteries and great learning – all the stuff life offers, they make a good place for such treasures.
So keep them. Then pass them on to your children and others you love – at the right time – and tell the stories that go with them.
Mama Joy also loved to rake leaves. She hired my brothers and me to rake leaves at their farm, where there are five acres of yard and trees. That’s a lot of leaves. Her love of this particular task I did not – and do not still – share. She had told me at one time all she needed in heaven was a rake.
When I read this at her funeral, I had one of her rakes with me, brought from the barn, and leaned it against her casket as I spoke. Quite unorthodox, I know, but it represented her well. At some point during the funeral, we, her grandchildren even discussed whether or not we should bury the rake with her. We decided not to, believing she would have said we need it at the farm. As I said, she was pragmatic.
Sweet Joy
Ours to remember in careful thought…lest we mourn a bit too much.
Her parting – it pains, though just for a while.
The Joy she hath brought floods our memories, our hearts.
Think of the sounds – her voice in that place.
And the work of her hands – became a family garden for us.
Think of her feet and her eyes moving across the expanse –
…her dwelling and thriving these many, many years.
The home they built now is known to us as forever theirs –
– inseparable from them, in spite of their going. …
And gone now only in ways that require our physical senses.
That fount of life, of love, and Joy remains.
Yes, our Joy, Sweet Joy remains – in heart and mind.
And in each other – look ‘round, now to see her.
Sweet Joy is cast in each kind face here – her life inseparable from ours.
Sweet Joy, my Sweet, Sweet Joy, your hand is upon my memory,
and your passions are upon our hearts.
Now – together – we see in our mind’s eye,
you with your groom and your children about.
Your Joy – our Joy is full and complete!
Michael / August 26, 2003
Michael E Conner
Reading your stories of growing up and family make me think of my own. All of those precious memories that we as adults hold so dear to our hearts.
You write with such a passion for family and life its so wonderful to go back and feel this tug of emotion for all we had growing up. If we only truly new what we had when we were younger. …… But, the positive impact is there in our daily lives.
I know we are all trying to do the same things and create the same memories for our children. Luckily, they have parents who have really loved the life God gave them.
You tug at my heart and when I start reading all of your work, I have to go and call my Grandpa when I’m done.
Keep up all of the great work and keep tugging at our heart strings. Its wonderful. Judy
Another fine piece, Michael. I, too, am becoming increasingly aware that I am or will soon be the same age as my grandmothers when they were working their magic on me as a child. It gives me a new understanding of what it must have been like for them–and what I meant to them as a child. Also like your idea of using mementos–and in my case selected photographs–as bookmarks. It is always like reuniting with an longtime friend whenever I pick up a long-neglected book and find something so precious tucked inside. My grandmother also pressed leaves and flowers in her books and now it is such a joy to come on some of those whenever I go through her books and try to imagine the context in which the leaf or flower was collected by her. Thanks again for sharing your writing gift.